Just the title of this poem made me laugh. Unfortunately, though, the title was pretty much the best part.

This poem doesn't even come close to your usual geniusness. The writing feels rushed, amateurish and lazy.

It starts off well enough. I like the imagery of violent, angry sex: "you want to stretch her, pull her up / by her knees until you're so far inside of her / that she's screaming your name" . . . "you want to suck the noise from her teeth," . . . "pour your burning flesh over her / until she's nothing at all."

I also enjoyed the physical descriptions. Needless to say, you seem to view Paris much I like do: the freakishly long arms, tiny tits, crooked nose, etc. She isn't all that pretty, and her rich attitude makes her even less attractive. If I was going to her, I'd also do it violently, "tuck(ing) cold fingers underneath her kneecaps," etc.

Not sure I'd want to clean her with my tongue, though. Too much filth. We'd need an army of custodians to try and accomplish that.

The second half the poem is fairly weak. I like the second-to-last stanza, about love being fucked up, "like the shape of her limbs," but the three stanzas that come before read as if you just wrote them once and never tried to improve them.

[you say that you would love to fuck Paris Hilton / because, you say, that she needs a good fuck]- The second "you say" kills a lot of the rhythm and punch. I'd lose it, so that it's "you say that you would love to fuck Paris Hilton / because she needs a good fuck."

[Fuck her, while her arms cross your neck / like a crucifix] Instead of reading and reviewing your newest stuff, which I'm sure you'd rather me do, I'm going to try and work my way up from where I originally left off. Anyways, it's interesting that just yesterday I read/reviewed "If I," which had the imagery of a womanly cricifixion, and here we see similar imagery.

There's quite a few commas in this piece that do nothing but jar the natural rhythm: "You want to fuck, so your fingers can twitch / and curl across dark pink nipples," . . . "Show her, what a guy in a black hoodie from the / rainy state of Washington can do to her," . . . "You want her, to want to take her clothes off for you." None of those commas at the beginning of those lines are needed.

[Pull them free, from skin - lace braw] *bra*

[as you pump your pulp ever deeper a slight] I praised your alliteration yesterday. But here's an example of contrived alliteration that only stands out in a negative light: "pump your pulp." C'mon, seriously? PULP?

Certainly one of your weaker poems, imo. It lacks a natural rhythm; the word choice is a bit lazy; there's too much repetition. However, a weak poem from you is still better than any poem I could ever write, or pretty much anyone else on this site. But I just know you're capable of far better and harder-hitting poetry.

Amazing. Your representation of Paris Hilton and everything she embodies seems so true, but you do it without any hint of undue resentment or spite towards her, in fact Im not sure whether it's the man you write about who comes off worst.

This is so cool. I admit I'm mildly the anti-Paris. I can imagine that some dude said this to you, "Oh man I wanna fuck her!" or something, and this was the result. :) The places we take inspiration from...!

Wow, this is hilarious. What really impresses me though is the fact you were able to put this together in such a clever way. The comments about her body throughout the poem cracked me up. Amazing work, I needed a laugh.